


Loyalty

by lyricalnights



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalnights/pseuds/lyricalnights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Reposting some of my old (very old) HP fic to get it all in one place. This was written for the now-defunct HP_Rarepairs group FQF in July 2003 and is thus AU for everything after OotP.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting some of my old (very old) HP fic to get it all in one place. This was written for the now-defunct HP_Rarepairs group FQF in July 2003 and is thus AU for everything after OotP.

“What on earth is that terrible racket?” Hermione paused to identify the direction of the sound. “I think it’s coming from your flat!”

With that, she and Ginny broke from their normal post-dinner stroll to rush down the corridor and through the door of the two-bedroom hole-in-the-wall that Ginny shared with Ron. The scene they walked into could only be described as cross between Fred and George’s most successful Umbridge-baiting episodes and the muggle movie “The Exorcist.”

“Ronald Weasley, stop it at once,” Hermione cried, simultaneously ducking as a plate went flying over her head to crash against the wall.

Ron made no reply, except to grunt fiercely as he opened another cabinet and cocked his arm to let fly with a set of genuine Scooby-Doo jam jar glasses, which had been a gift from an American colleague of Arthur Weasley’s.

“Accio Shaggy-glass!” Before he could send the first cartoon character airborne, Ginny called the glass to her. As an afterthought, she put a full bodybind on Ron, settling him on the worn sofa still smoldering with anger.

“Now,” Hermione said, “please tell us what’s wrong? Has something happened to Oliver?”

“You’re damn right something’s happened to Oliver,” Ron raged when they finally released him from the spell, “he’s betrayed me and Ginny and the rest of the family, and I only hope you’ll be around to keep me from hurting the bastard the next time I see him. I can’t believe I trusted him!”

Ginny and Hermione exchanged a confused look; Ron and Oliver’s relationship, forged in their common obsessive love for Quidditch, had been rock-solid for well over two years. They had been together nearly since the day Ron had arrived as the new assistant coach to Puddlemere United, where Oliver now reigned supreme as first-string Keeper. It was a standard line among the younger generation of Weasleys that the pair of them probably talked Quidditch in bed as much as they did everywhere else. Fred and George would feign sexual acts of dubious flexibility, mock-moaning about snitches and bludgers, until Ron’s ears turned red and he tried to hex them into oblivion for the millionth time.

“Has he killed someone? Is he seeing another man?” Ginny asked. “Oh, if he’s been cheating on you, I’ll turn his head inside out and use it for Beater practice!”

Ron’s demeanor suddenly changed as he looked at Ginny where she sat practically trembling with sisterly fury.

“I suppose you could say he’s taken up with another man all right,” Ron said icily. “He’s tall, wears glasses and a smug expression, and answers to the name ‘Percy Weasley,’ though he certainly doesn’t deserve to have it.”

“Percy!” Hermione gasped as Ginny went very still beside her. “You don’t mean to tell us that Percy was in Oliver’s flat, do you?”

“Well, no, not in his flat, as far as I know,” Ron admitted. “But he’s certainly been talking to the evil git, and from the looks of the letter I found, it’s not a new thing.”

“Ron, how could you go through Oliver’s private letters?” Hermione demanded, nearly as incensed by Ron’s lack of manners as by Oliver’s apparent betrayal. “That’s a horrible thing to do.”

“I didn’t mean to; it was an accident,” Ron claimed. “I was looking for some paper to write down a new idea for a Quidditch play that I’ve been working on, and I stumbled over the letter. Anyway, it’s a good job I did; I still can’t believe all this time I was dating a backstabber.”

“What did the letter say?” Ginny asked, almost too calmly. “What could ‘I don’t know any of you anymore’ Percy possibly have to say to Oliver Wood, Weasley-lover extraordinare?”

“Something about coming to terms with the past, and about responsibility and how grateful he was to Oliver. Also, there was something about a meeting soon. Setting up their next tryst, I suppose.” Ron looked as though his anger might give over into tears at any moment. “I just saw who it was from, and that it was friendly in that stiff, Percy-ish way, and I ran.”

“You ran?” Hermione said incredulously.

“Yeah, I dunno, it was weird.” Ron said. “One minute I was looking at this letter, wondering how I could have been so wrong, and the next I was out of the flat and halfway down the street. Oliver wasn’t back from the grocer’s, and I just couldn’t stand the thought of facing him. I was afraid I’d kill him or something.”

The three stared at each other for a long moment before Ginny finally stirred, pulling herself together.

“Well then,” she said with false cheerfulness. “We’ll just have to find you a much better boyfriend, won’t we? Who needs old Oliver Wood anyway?”

“I think I do,” said Ron softly. “That’s the worst part. I don’t know how I can ever face him again.”

“Should I try to get Harry in the fireplace?” Hermione asked. “I’m sure he and Remus wouldn’t mind a little company at their house for a few days; you know how isolated it is up there.”

“That would be great, Hermione. Thank you.”

“Hey, what else is a best friend and sister’s girlfriend for?” she said with a smile and a nod, moving towards the jar of powder on the mantelpiece.

Ron and Ginny remained on the sofa, picking at the stuffing coming out around the edges and pointedly ignoring the specter of their brother who had divorced himself from the family looming in their minds.

“I’m really sorry,” Ginny said again. “I would never have expected it from him.”

“Neither would I,” Ron said with a tinge of bitterness in his tired voice. “If it had been anyone else, I would’ve been hurt, but I could have dealt with it. But Percy, after everything he put us through, put Mum and Dad through…”

“No sense in dwelling right now,” Hermione said briskly as she returned to the sofa. “Harry’s been called to St. Mungo’s to deal with a nasty case of Polliwog Pox, but Remus says to come whenever you like. Go on, then. Ginny and I will arrange holiday time for you and send some clothes by owl tomorrow. The floo is still open and I’ll not have you apparating in your state.”

“Thanks again,” Ron said as he stepped in front of the fireplace. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Get some sleep, Ron,” Hermione commanded as she wrapped an arm around Ginny’s waist. “Get some sleep and talk to Harry. Things are rarely as bad as they seem at first glance.”

“I certainly hope so,” Ron sighed. “I’ll see you soon.” He stepped into the green fire and said firmly: “Ashton Cottage.”

****

Ron rolled over and wondered sleepily why the light in the flat was so damn bright, why the left side of the bed was cold, and when Oliver had taken up singing as an early-morning hobby. Then he recognized the voice as Harry’s cheerful and perpetually off-key baritone, and the events that had brought him here returned in a flash. Oliver. Percy. The letter.

The stabbing, aching pain where his heart used to be.

Ron willed away the despair that threatened to overwhelm him and climbed out of bed. As he stumbled towards the bathroom, he noticed the combination of simple pen and ink drawings and oil paintings that decorated the walls of Remus and Harry’s upstairs hall. Most were people he only recognized by a faint resemblance to either of the men, but a large double portrait of James and Lily hung near the entrance to the master bedroom, looking kindly down at him.

On the other side of the narrow hall, a grinning picture of Sirius Black winked at one of Remus’s elderly aunts done in charcoal, who blushed and hid behind an ornate hat. Ron smiled to see Sirius like he had always wanted to, unbroken by the weight of his ruined life and his worries for Harry’s safety. He smiled as well to know that Sirius had, in a way, brought his only surviving “family” together: Harry and Remus, leaning on each other for support, comfort, and eventually everything else that comes with love.

“Finally, mate,” Harry said when Ron wandered into the kitchen after his shower, following the scent of fresh bacon and eggs. “I was beginning to think you were headed for hibernation up there.”

“How long have I been asleep?” Ron asked, tucking into the full plate Harry quickly set before him.

“Let’s see, Remus says you came in around 9 o’clock Friday evening, and its Sunday morning now, so I’d say you pretty much went ‘round the clock and then some. You must have really needed it.”

“I guess so,” Ron said. “Do you know what happened?”

Harry sighed and tapped his fork against his own plate. “Hermione sent over an owl with some fresh clothes and one of her missives, filled with the facts and her own speculations. I swear, if she wasn’t so committed to Charm research and development, the muggle intelligence offices would snap her up in a second.”

“Thrill for me,” Ron said sourly. “I know she means well, but the whole affair seems pretty cut and dried. Oliver’s been carrying on with the one person I can’t bear to think of behind my back, and he’s probably been laughing about it as well.”

“Now, Ron,” Harry chided him. “I suppose we could all have been wrong about him all along, but that just doesn’t sound like the Oliver I know. He’s crazy about you; it’s plain as day on his face whenever I see you two together.”

“Maybe it was another Weasley he was crazy about all the time,” Ron said, voicing the fear that had been growing in him since he had picked up the innocent looking letter from Oliver’s desk. “Maybe I was just a handy substitute for someone with a bit more…ambition in life.” The unkind words Percy had flung at his parents before leaving The Burrow over seven years ago still stung bitterly to the other Weasley children, not in the least because most of what he had said was true, from a certain point of view. From the self-deluding Ministry’s point of view. From Percy’s point of view.

“Maybe,” Harry said carefully, surprising Ron with his sudden similarity of expression to Remus. “But somehow I doubt it. At any rate, feel free to stay here as long as you like. Remus is in Muggle London for the day speaking to one of his editors, but I’m currently enjoying one of those rare days off St. Mungo’s dangles in front of me to keep me on staff.”

“How is the life of a certified mediwizard treating you, Harry?” Ron asked, feeling a grin that was only slightly stiff pull at his lips.

“I can’t complain, really,” said Harry. “I’m the best they have at undoing hexes and curses, so they treat me well and don’t lean on me too much about being the famous ‘Boy-Who-Lived-Through-Voldemort-Twice’. Still, I’m working on doing something about the robe color. Lime-green? Not for me, thanks.”

“Sounds like it’s the calling you’ve been searching for, then,” Ron said thoughtfully. “Though I still can’t believe you walked out of your final Auror’s qualifying exam. In the middle, for Merlin’s sake! Also, have I told you lately that you are a gay, gay wizard?”

“This from the man who was dancing around the common room in a rainbow t-shirt when the rest of us were still enjoying the view from inside the closet?” Harry joked, momentarily ignoring the first part of Ron’s statement.

After a moment’s pause, Harry admitted: “I didn’t feel like I would really help anyone, or myself, as an Auror. I needed to wash some of the blood off my hands, and healing makes me feel like I’m putting something right for once, instead of trying to tear it apart.”

They sat quietly for a long time, the only sounds in the kitchen being those of food being inhaled the way only young men can do it.

“What does Remus do about the full moon these days?” Ron asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Harry shrugged. “Professor Snape taught me how to brew Wolfsbane during the War; I think he knew something might happen to him.” He frowned momentarily as though shadowed by a painful memory. “Remus takes that and we curl up together in front of the fire. He snores something dreadful as a wolf, though, so I never get much sleep on those nights. Why do you ask?”

Ron ignored Harry’s question and pursued his own line of thought. “What would you do if something went wrong, though? If he hurt someone, or killed them? How would you deal with that?”

Harry sat silently for a moment before answering. “I really don’t know, Ron, and I hope I never have to. But I can tell you that Remus is everything to me, and nothing he did, as a human or a wolf, could stop me from loving him. That’s just the way it is.”

“That’s how I thought I felt about Oliver, and maybe the way I still do,” Ron said. “But now I don’t know whether to be pleased that I’ve found that kind of trust and love, or sad because it looks like I never should have given it to him in the first place.”

“That’s something you’ll have to decide, Ron,” Harry said as he began to clear away the remains of breakfast. “I will say that you need to talk to him, and soon. It’s not right to just run away from things that might hurt either one of you. Clear the air, if nothing else.”

“I know, I know, but what will I say? I have so many dirty names I want to call him and questions I want to ask. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Well, I’d starting putting them together, mate,” Harry said as he glanced out the window. “Because the Quidditch player in question is halfway up the walk.”

Ron squawked and dove for the doorway leading back upstairs, but Harry grabbed him by the back of the shirt, hauling him through the opposite doorway and into the front room. The struggling pair reached the front door just before Oliver and all three came together on the stoop.

“Oliver, good to see you again,” Harry said briskly. ‘I’ll just be down by the pond checking on some plants Remus is cultivating for his next cookbook, while you two have a nice chat.” Then he was off, leaving Ron behind to stare at his shoes and try to get his errant breathing under control.

They continued that way, Ron staring at his shoes and Oliver staring at Ron, for a seemingly endless stretch of minutes. Finally, they both spoke at the same time, in a rush.

“I was looking for a piece of scrap paper and I found…”

“You weren’t there when I got back, and Hermione said you had found…”

“The letter.” They sighed in unison as though auditioning for a particularly gruesome Greek Chorus.

This reminder of the pre-eminent fact put starch in Ron’s spine, and he looked ready to move into full-blown temper mode when Oliver quietly raised his hand and said, “Please, listen to me.”

Ron cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What you found was not what it looked like.” At Ron’s clear snort of disbelief, Oliver continued quickly. “It was a letter from Percy, and I’ve been writing him pretty steadily for over a year now; since you and I have been spending more time together than apart, really.”

As Ron’s eyes narrowed, Oliver said, “He misses you, Ron. The entire redheaded clan, but especially you. He talks about you making Prefect, and the Quidditch team. He told me he keeps a clipping from the Daily Prophet sports page on his desk, the one where Coach Breely talked about what a great asset you are to Puddlemere United’s strategy.”

“If he misses us so much, then why did he leave?” Ron burst out. “Why did he run us down and drag us through the mud, and stay gone for seven years when he knew what it was doing to Mum and Dad?”

“From what he’s told me, he left because he thought he was right, then he stayed away because he didn’t know how to admit that he might have been wrong. It’s the Weasley Stubbornness at work, and don’t make that face at me, Ron, you know what I’m talking about.”

“Haven’t a clue,” Ron said airily, though the blatant lie was obvious to both of them.

“Each and every one of you is so filled with love, and so afraid that it still won’t be enough.” Oliver said. “All it would take was for one person: Percy, Molly, you, anyone, to make that first gesture and it all would have fallen back into place. But you wouldn’t, so I was trying to move things along. Everyone wants the same thing here, Ron; I just want it now instead of twenty years from now.”

“Percy…still loves us?” Ron asked uncertainly. “Wants us back? The Dumbledore-loving Ministry traitors?”

“More than anything.” Oliver said softly. “It takes some people longer to grow up than others. That’s just the way it is.”

Ron’s wavering emotions played across his face momentarily before settling into place. “You shouldn’t have lied to me. You shouldn’t have snuck around behind my back.”

“No, I shouldn’t, and I’m sorry. I never intended for you to know that I had a hand in bringing the family back together. I didn’t want to see anyone get more hurt than they already had been, and I just ended up hurting myself. I won’t apologize for what I was trying to do, but I will apologize for how I tried to do it. Can you forgive me?” Oliver glanced down then, his resolute face dissolving into a mass of worry and tension.

Ron stood for a long moment before stepping forward and tilting Oliver’s chin back up on a level with his own eyes. “For whatever you do, I think I would have to forgive you. Just don’t make me do it too often, ok?”

Oliver smiled his acceptance, then cocked an eyebrow speculatively. “What about the Percy situation?”

Ron grimaced. “I’ll write to him, but I can’t promise any more than that. I’ll try.”

“That’s good enough to be going on with, I think.” Oliver said. “May I kiss you, Ron Weasley?”

“Yes, Oliver, I think I’d rather like that.”

An altogether mushy and romantic kiss was broken when Harry suddenly appeared behind them in bright red hipwaders, carrying a spade and bucket. “Since that’s settled, who wants to help me dig through pond scum?”

Ron and Oliver glanced at each other for only a second before grabbing Harry around the middle and hauling him off towards a ducking in the pond, his indignant voice trailing behind them. “Well, I like this treatment; see if I invite you over to visit again, mate. Put me down right now! Watch the glasses!”

~Fin~


End file.
